The Brazen and the Buxom
by Gracelynn
Summary: This was written for a 30 Minute Fics challenge over at LiveJournal. The challenge was to use characters from the HP universe and create a soap opera drama. Lots of fun!


The drawing room was hazy with cigarette smoke and heavy perfume. The craftily installed track lighting illuminated to perfection the glittering jewels of the women, both the fake and the meant-to-look-real, and the copious amounts of hair gel on the gleaming men. The coifed ladies were grouped in carefully casual postures to catch the eyes of the gentlemen with languid exteriors and feral eyes.

Malfoy Manor was cool, crystal perfection. Sleek and pretentious as its masters, who had yet to put in an appearance. The guests passed the time by doing what they did best: thinking about how much money the Malfoys had.

The gilded hero, Harry Potter, was, appropriately, posed in the center of the room, under the best light. He made agreeably vague statements at properly placed intervals, and his group of admirers laughed appreciatively.

The petite but fiery Ginny was stationed close to his side, the glare from her vulgarly large engagement ring periodically blinding the long-suffering house elf who carried the tray of crystal champagne flutes. She took no notice, of course. Her eyes were focused on a dark corner, where the man she yearned to do perform unspeakable acts on brooded. Ginny had it all, but she craved something darker, something…bad. Harry was all sunshine and breezes, and, well, maddening niceness. Ginny longed for a dangerous, sharp tongue.

In the dark corner Severus Snape glowered out at them all. Oh, how he despised them. He had made a fortune with his "Completely Rant-Proof" line of mascara and eyeliner. Every woman in the room had it on, the daft stupid cows. How else could they cry and storm so passionately, and still maintain their flawless skin tone? So he manipulated their vanity for his own gain, sneering down his hooked nose at them all the while, except…except he couldn't rid himself of the plague-like dreams of _her._ The Queen of the whole damned game. The most manipulative and ruthless player of them all. He watched her sullenly, from heavy-lidded black eyes, and each impetuous, pouty French phrase from her pink frosted lips sliced under his skin and settled in his veins. He wondered idly why the hell they had all been invited here, and, more importantly, why they had all showed up. He dismissed this as not worth the energy to contemplate, and resumed his cold study of Fleur.

Molly Weasley was also staring at Fleur from behind a potted fucus tree, daggers in her eyes. Molly was no fool. She knew that harlot had already trapped two of her sons in her snare, and she suspected her daughter's future happiness was at stake as well. Molly watched Fleur settle a delicate hand on Harry's arm. Oh yes, she had obviously set her sights on the Boy Who Lived, but Molly was not about to let her get away with it this time. She was the matriarch, the power behind the Weasley dynasty. She turned her wand over in her hands, again and again. _This time_, she thought, _this time you'll get what's coming to you_.

Hermione Granger sat on a stool at the open bar with her grape knee-high, looking intelligent. Her hair hung half over her face and her long skirt and jumper hid well her heretofore-undiscovered lucious curves. She adjusted her black-rimmed glasses and peered longingly at the man playing cards in the distance. She really didn't need glasses. She could see perfectly fine, but they were part of the bookish, socially awkward uniform. Besides, the glasses would have to come off when she transitioned from librarian look-alike into the sex-bomb love interest. Everyone knew that. She wished with every righteous fiber of her being that the gentle hands of Remus Lupin would pluck the spectacles from her face. He was wounded, he was wronged. She just knew that no one could love him as she could. She didn't understand why he was with that silly Luna. Everyone said he married her for the money her father had left her from the Crumple Horned Snorkack he sold to the traveling circus Hagrid had now, but Hermione knew better. Remus couldn't do such a thing. Not her Remus. 

Luna Lupin maintained her vacant gaze out the ornate picture window, but her mind traveled more devious paths. Her dotty act had served her well over the years, but now she was growing tired of the act. Luna craved power. She had to have it. Lupin had served his purpose. She was here, wasn't she? Close to her real prey. But she would have to work fast, before that bastard she married 63 hours ago found out that there really wasn't any money. It was time to put the plan into action. The key to her success was here somewhere. She needed to seduce Draco.

Draco looked through the one-way glass disguised as an actual size portrait of Narcissa. The elegant guests were like decorative crystal figurines. Useless, yes, but beautiful. But his sooty-lash framed silver eyes passed over them all and he stared hungrily at his cousin Nymphadora. Gods, he wanted her. He longed to run his sensuously sculpted, pampered hands through her freakishly green-colored hair. He could not purge his incestuous fantasies of her, preferably in bondage, from his golden head. He dreamed of her and obsessed over her lithe, clumsy body. But he would never have her. He was bound by honor (yes, honor, dammit) to marry Fleur, who carried his love child- the ill-conceived result of a night of alcoholic revel. Draco rested his almost effeminate but still dangerously powerful forehead against the glass and cursed his fate.

Neville stood awkwardly at the edge of Potter's fan club. Behind the timid face raged a terrible and fierce anger. Neville was tired of being overlooked, under-appreciated, and generally well liked. Couldn't one goddamn person hate him? Couldn't he have even one bitter ex-lover? Well, he would show them…they'd all see soon. As soon as he found Trevor, the oldest toad in amphibious history, whose purpose remained as unclear as ever…

Just as Molly raised her wand to hex Fleur into oblivion, a ragged and sexily unshaven figure knocked her wand arm as he rushed into the gilded room. Her curse went astray, hitting instead a bottle of bourbon at the bar, which toppled over and spilled its contents over Hermione. Everyone stopped their meaningless conversations and stared impressively at the new arrival that bore a remarkable resemblance to Remus Lupin.

"Remus?" said a drenched Hermione, "but…how…?"

"That man is not Remus!" he cried, pointing at the imposter Lupin at the card table. "That is my evil twin…Romulus!!"

A collective gasp went up through the room, as Remus continued with his litany of the transgressor's sins.

"My evil twin married Luna for her money, all the while carrying on a torrid affair with Fleur!"

"Well, Fleur has been passing off her bastard child as Draco's, all the while seducing Harry Potter!" Romulus shouted.

Harry turned red and said defensively, "It was only the once."

Ginny looked at him with new eyes, and said, "Oh Harry…you really _can_ be bad, can't you?"

Draco rushed into the room at the news that he was not the father of Fleur's baby and swept Nymphadora into a passionate embrace which she, predictably, returned. Everyone else, curiously squicked by this, turned to watch Hermione as she moved toward the real Lupin, her alcohol soaked clothing revealing finally the sex bomb she was. Remus wasted no time in carrying her off to his brand new sports car to have his wolf-like way with her.

Neville, having finally retrieved Trevor, happened to look into the agony filled eyes of Luna, who was watching her carefully constructed plan maul his cousin. Their gazes held, and they fell immediately in love with each other. Together they would take over the world!

Molly, ever practical, demanded to know who WAS the father of Fleur's baby.

Fleur blushed a very becoming shade of pink, and confessed that she wasn't sure. At this pronouncement, Severus rose and took her by the arms.

"You foolish girl, don't you know you are better than this! Marry me. I am the only man in this room who _couldn't_ be the father, so it is only logical for me to raise the child as my own."

As the guests turned to go, Lucius finally made his appearance in the doorway.

"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy, but why did you ask us here?" one of them asked.

A startled expression passed over his cold features, and he replied, "Why? I'm not sure. There never really needs to be a reason, does there?"


End file.
